


1 year, 6 months, 2 weeks

by sponsormusings



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Prompts in Panem, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-15 08:21:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2222136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sponsormusings/pseuds/sponsormusings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dinner with her sister, her husband, and his brother was not exactly turning out the way Katniss Everdeen expected. Especially not with the way Prim's brother-in-law was looking at her, the way he was making her feel.</p><p>And she wondered how on earth she'd never noticed Peeta Mellark in this way before.</p><p>A submission for Prompts in Panem, August 2014. Day 5, 'Blue'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

1 year, 6 months, 2 weeks.

It had been precisely that long since Katniss Everdeen had last seen Peeta Mellark, though she hadn’t even realised she’d been counting. But from the numbers that practically flashed like neon lights inside her head, it appeared as though she had.

Of course, she could always say that was how long it had been since her sister got married…but something told her that wasn't the reason she remembered.

She sat across from him, listening as he told a story about a recent portrait commission he'd completed. He was still the warm and engaging guy she'd grown up with, the one she'd known since they were five and had both attended District Twelve Elementary, followed by District Twelve High. They'd never really socialised in the same circles, had been nothing more than acquaintances, nothing more than someone they might have glanced at in the school hall. But she'd known _(like every other girl in school)_ just how charming he was. 

That still hadn't changed.

The last time they’d seen each other had been when her younger sister had unexpectedly married his older brother following a whirlwind courtship, after meeting at the Veterinary surgery where they  both worked. The wedding had been sweet, simple, and Katniss and Peeta had gotten along fine while they’d completed their duties as Maid of Honour and Best Man. They’d reminisced _(or in Katniss’ case, complained)_ about their school years during the photos, he'd nodded encouragingly as she'd read her speech from carefully prepared note cards, and he hadn't stood on her toes during the obligatory bridal party dance.

It had been a wedding perfect for her sister, and afterwards she'd thought how great it was for Prim to have the extended family she'd always wanted and had always deserved. She’d deserved more than an emotionally absent mother and a sister who was about as unsociable as you could get. So rambunctious Aaran, his two brothers and their father were like a godsend, and she was grateful knowing that they’d always be there for her.

Since then, Peeta had been away for most of the time, though Prim would mention him occasionally, share with Katniss the stories he relayed in emails while he was travelling all over Europe, raising his profile as an artist. But now he was back, albeit for just a month to settle the sale of his apartment before he returned to Paris permanently.  And as a result, she'd found herself sitting across from him in Prim and Aaran's cheery dining room, having a 'family dinner' and sharing pasta primavera.

Trying desperately - and failing miserably - not to stare at him.

He'd always been good looking, that she could never argue. But travel had done... _something_ to him; though she didn't know what. All she knew was that in the last hour, she'd gone from thinking of him as _Peeta Mellark, friendly and cute brother in law_ to _Peeta Mellark, oh my god stop looking at his face and thinking about him sans pants._

Shifting in her chair and crossing one foot over the other, she tried to focus on what he was saying, on the conversation that surrounded her. Something about a bakery in Rue Cler, and beignets, and markets. Prim and Aaran both suddenly laughed, and Katniss did too, even though she had no clue what they were laughing at. But Peeta grinned at their response, so whatever it was, it _must_ have been funny. 

Cracking the knuckles of her free hand under the table, she raised her wine to her lips with her other and used the rim of the glass to help obscure her obvious gaze. She was certain it was his jaw, she thought firmly. The way it clenched and flexed. The way it moved when he chewed, the way it shifted when he grinned.

But then she thought maybe it was the grin itself - wide, warm, charming. A little more quirked up on the left, a dimple popping in his cheek on the right. And when his mouth smiled, his eyes smiled too.

Ok, it was the eyes. It _had_ to be. Bright, blue, friendly. Complete and utter confidence in them as he spoke, a hint of a tease when he joked with Aaran, and something a little more...different in them when he locked gazes with her. It was that gaze that made her chest flush, and made her thankful that she'd worn a top with a wide neckline that showed off her collarbone rather than her cleavage. Because right now she was certain if it was bared, her chest would look like a tomato.

“Katniss?”

At the sound of her name, Katniss practically fell out of her seat. She glanced over at Prim, fumbled putting her glass back onto the table. “Sorry,” she apologised, blushing. “I...drifted off. Big day at work.”

“Of course,” Peeta said smoothly, smiling across the table at her. “Prim mentioned in her last email that you’ve been working hard on a summer program for the kids at the recreation centre.”

“Oh did she now?” Katniss raised her eyebrow at her sister, who stared blithely back. 

“Yeah I did,” Prim replied. “It’s a good program, and you’re doing a great job. Of course I’m going to brag about my sister.”

Katniss looked away, embarrassed. If there was one thing she didn’t like, it was talking about herself. If there were two things she didn’t like, it was that, and other people talking about her on her behalf.

“Oh, well, you know…” she trailed off. “Madge and I just want to make sure the kids have somewhere fun and safe to hang out while they’re on vacation and if their parents have to work. It just means I get to shoot lots of arrows and have waterbomb fights every day.”

“It sounds like fun,” Peeta said sincerely, leaning back in his seat slightly. He grasped his own glass in his hand, swirled the liquid around lightly before sipping at it, a small grin curving his lips.

_Dammit, that smile._

Conversation, thankfully, moved onto some television program that Aaran and Prim were addicted to, and Katniss breathed a sigh of relief. If not so much because now the focus was off her.

But so that she could go back to looking at Peeta.

It didn’t matter if it was ridiculous, if it was vaguely ‘high-school-ish’. It wasn’t like she had a notepad and was writing _Mrs Katniss Mellark_ with love hearts around it, after all.

She just wanted to look at him. Appreciate him. Wonder how on earth she’d never noticed him in this way before.

The evening wore on, and as more wine flowed, the conversation grew. Even Katniss participated in a heated debate about the last season of Game of Thrones, and she felt lightheaded from laughter after Aaran launched into another one of the impersonations he was so well known for.

But it was definitely the gaze of Peeta across the table that made her stomach jump and quiver and tie itself in knots. He’d look at her occasionally - almost catching her looking at him - or he’d brush his hand against hers when handing her the bottle of wine. Electricity would jolt through her fingers and up her arm quicker than a bolt of lightning shot through the sky, and it would almost always feel like she’d swallowed her tongue.

Once, he’d slicked his own tongue across his upper lip, catching a small, ruby red drop of wine and she'd found herself mimicking the motion. He'd lazily rubbed a hand against the back of his neck when telling stories of his travels - of his time in Barcelona or Florence or Dubrovnik - and she'd felt the hairs on the back of her own neck rise. He'd flicked his eyes to hers and she hadn't been able to do anything but stare at the way his long, golden eyelashes tangled up together in the low, warm light.

His foot had accidentally knocked against hers just before Prim cleared their dishes from the table, and though he’d apologised the first time, the second time he’d simply left it there, lined up against hers, almost tempting her to slide her foot out of the simple black flats she wore to try and trail her toes up the inside of his jeans.

_What the hell was she thinking?!_

The pie was blueberry, it was announced with a flourish, a Mellark family favourite. Katniss breathed a sigh of relief as Prim announced she’d get the dessert ready, and asked if she would help - which had been great until Aaran had told her not to worry, that she was their guest, and that he’d help his wife.

And left her and Peeta alone.

Yup, just her, Peeta, the knots in her stomach, and the ache low - _very low_ \- in her belly.

“It’s good to see you, Katniss,” he murmured, shifting in his seat and lifting his eyes to hers the moment their siblings were out of the room. His foot jerked slightly against hers. “You look great.”

She cleared her throat, traced a finger around the rim of her wine glass. “So, uh, so do you. Travelling...looks good on you.”

“I recommend it,” he replied, and his blue eyes were intense as he looked at her. She felt her stomach flare up with a thousand butterflies.

“T-travelling?” she repeated, and cursed herself for how dumb she sounded.

“Travelling,” he agreed with a murmur. “You should do it sometime."

"Why?"

He shrugged smoothly, laying his hand out on the table and pressing his fingertips into the tablecloth. "There’s something about being in a new place; the scents, the sights, the people. Some cities have a feel to them, and you immerse yourself in it, until you feel as though you’ve been there all along and you belong there." He began to trace patterns on the cloth with his pointer finger, his voice deepening as he stared back at her. "Other times you have to work a little harder to feel like you fit in, take your time, or go in with no fear...but when you do, and it feels like home, you know it was worth it.”

She knew her mouth was wide open, her eyes confused. _She wasn’t even sure she knew what he was talking about any more._ She looked desperately over towards the door that led to the kitchen, but she could hear whispering, and the occasional squeal of laughter from Prim.

They weren’t coming back anytime soon.

“Yours must be all the fresh air from being outside with your work,” Peeta suddenly said, drawing her attention back to him.

“My what?” Katniss replied, confused.

“Why you look so good. The flush on your cheeks, your tan, your glossy hair…”

“I’ve always spent my time outside,” she grumbled. “Even back in high school.”

“I know you did.”

“I - what?” She did a double take, expecting him to be smiling, but his face was serious. 

“I know,” he repeated, and his voice dropped again, low and almost...was _dangerous_ the right word? “Even back in high school you looked good. Great. Beautiful. Stunning. You always have.”

She was certain that if she was in a cartoon, her jaw would have hit the table. “You’re kidding me, right?”

He lifted an eyebrow lazily, and his foot moved against hers again, sending a jolt through her foot, up her calf, straight to her core. “Definitely not kidding,” Peeta said quietly. Tension filled silence reigned between them while they stared at each other, until he finally broke. “I’ve not been able to stop staring at you all night, Katniss. I can’t take my eyes off you. But that’s nothing different to any other time I’ve been around you.”

Her heart leapt up from her chest to her throat, and she dug her heels into the carpet to ground herself. "It was different at Prim and Aaran's wedding,” she argued weakly.

"No it wasn't," he said resolutely, and this time his leg moved so that his calf was pressed up firmly against her own. She could feel the warmth of his flesh through two layers of jeans. "It was the same, Katniss, it’s always been the same. You just weren't paying attention."

Prim and Aaran chose that moment to push back through the swinging door, arms full of deep yellow bowls filled with rich vanilla ice-cream and slices of pie with filling that was so blue it was almost unnatural. Peeta shifted in his seat, Katniss pulled her feet back and slid them under her chair, and Prim and Aaran sat down, none the wiser as to what had just transpired.

_What the hell_ _had_ _just transpired? Had Peeta Mellark just told her he...had a crush on her or something?_

_Impossible_

They ate, and conversation continued as normal. Except this time there were warm, lingering glances sent her way from Peeta, where it felt like his eyes were searing into her. Her body was so tightly wound up she was afraid she’d snap, and all she could think about was getting him naked on her sister's mahogany dining table.

"I have to go," she suddenly said, standing abruptly from her chair, pushing it back so the legs scraped noisily along the timber floors. She dropped her spoon into her now empty dish, where it rattled loudly. "I, uh, should go home, go to bed." _Alone._ "Big day today and all. So uh, yeah. Thanks for dinner Prim." She moved to plant a kiss on the cheek of her surprised sister, did the same to Aaran. She got to Peeta, held out a hand. "I'll, uh, see you next time you're in town," she told him as his hand reached for hers, and he turned those big blue eyes up to look at her.

Their palms clasped.

_Big mistake._


	2. Chapter 2

_Each move was slow, deliberate, perfectly executed. Everything about it was smooth, and in his arms, even Katniss felt like she could be a professional. Because Peeta Mellark had moves._

_Good ones._

_"You know, you're not a bad dancer, Mellark," she said with a faint smile as her fingers flexed gently in his hand. "I figured all that wrestling in high school would have made you heavy footed."_

_Peeta smiled back as he turned them in a slow circle on the dance floor. "Oh, I'm heavy footed, no doubt about it," he admitted cheerfully. "But the thing about wrestling is that it keeps you aware of your opponents’ body, of each move they make. There’s a surprising element of agility to it sometimes – it’s not all grappling and pinning people down. You have to be agile enough to go with or away from your opponent at any moment. It's not a bad starting point for being able to dance."_

_She lifted an eyebrow wryly. "And I'm your opponent, am I?"_

_"Not at all," he said smoothly. "But I just have to be aware of your body...for dancing purposes, of course. I wouldn't want to stand on your toes."_

_"Definitely not," Katniss laughed. "These shoes are making my feet ache like a bitch already without factoring in some stubbed toes."_

_Peeta grinned in reply as the final strains of Frank Sinatra led into Love Shack, and a whooping Finnick - Aaran's long-time best friend and groomsman - grabbed the mic, started yelling about a faded sign at the side of the road._

_With a laugh, Katniss and Peeta pulled apart, their dancing obligations over, and watched as the slow dancing that had been happening only minutes before exploded into a bunch of people finger pointing, duck face-ing and singing along at the top of their voices. Everyone was smiling, laughing, happy._

_She might be biased, but she thought her little sister had managed to pull off a pretty kick ass wedding._

********

" _I just have to be aware of your body. For dancing purposes_."

_Dammit_.

She _really_ hadn't been paying attention.

Looking back now, she couldn't believe how oblivious she'd been. The exchange they’d shared while dancing had come to the forefront of her mind - _as if it had stored itself away just waiting for this day to arrive_ – immediately after slamming Prim and Aaran's front door, and had run on a continuous loop in her head from the moment she’d begun stalking down the sidewalk. His real meaning had been obvious, hidden cleverly by propriety - and he'd used _wrestling_ , for crying out loud. And on reflection, it hadn't been the only one during the wedding and reception. She'd just completely and utterly missed Every. Single. One. of them.

It was apparent that Peeta Mellark, her brand new brother-in-law, had been flirting with her at their own siblings wedding, and she hadn't had a clue.

She folded her arms tightly across her body as she continued down the sidewalk, wished she'd had the foresight to bring her old leather jacket with her. The weather was definitely starting to turn, and while the 15 minute walk to her sister's had been fine at 5 in the afternoon, it wasn't such a great idea at 9 at night. All things considered though, a brisk walk and a chilly breeze was probably the best way for her to calm down. Because Peeta had definitely managed to turn her on on about 20 different levels with his dinner table flirtations. Every word out of his mouth had been golden, every brush of his hand or foot against hers electric.

She bet he was dynamite with the ladies.

"Katniss! Katniss, wait up!"

She increased her speed, two steps to her usual one in an attempt to outwalk him.

So, of course, Peeta Mellark jogged.

"Katniss!" This time his voice was impatient, and, annoyed, she whirled on her foot. Anger was her best defense when her walls were cracked or broken, and she fell back on it like a comfort blanket.

"What?" She snapped.

He lifted his hands in question. "What was all that about? Prim is freaking out right now. I had to tell her you were queasy before dessert, and probably still felt ill, that’s why you took off in a rush."

"You didn't want to tell her the truth?"

"Which is?"

"That you were hitting on your own sister-in-law while she was playing kissy face with her husband in the kitchen?"

Peeta opened his mouth, then closed it again, instead shoving his hands in the pockets of the faded, comfortable looking jeans he wore. The breeze played havoc with his hair, blowing the disordered waves across his forehead. "Kissy face?" He finally said. "Is _that_ what they're calling it these days?"

Katniss rolled her eyes, annoyed that out of all of her statement, that’s what he focused on. "I wouldn't know, and I don't really care." She dug into the back pocket of her jeans, pulled out her iPhone and dashed off a quick text to Prim telling her she was fine, that she thought maybe the brownies Madge had made for afternoon tea at the community centre had made her feel ill. Then she locked the screen, returned it to her pocket and stared at Peeta balefully. "I backed up your story, ok? Prim thinks I'm not feeling well - now run along back there."

Peeta shook his head. "I told her I'd walk you home, make sure you were alright."

"I don’t need that; I've done this walk plenty of times," she said firmly.

"I'm sure you have. But tonight-" he shrugged his own jacket off, stepped towards her and slid it around her shoulders. "You're cold. And you don't need to get sick."

"I’m not cold. And what does it matter to you if I get sick or not anyway?" She countered, though she absently gripped the jacket tighter around her.

He blinked, slowly, so that those damn eyelashes did their perfect little tango and tangled up together. His left eyebrow lifted almost infinitesimally as he spoke. "Katniss…I _really_ thought I made that clear to you before."

She swallowed, willed the anger to burst forth again. But it had already gleefully stepped aside for its arch enemy – _lust_ , _the sneaky_ _bastard_ \- to return, and it curled through her until it all but swallowed her whole. "You're...you're going to flirt with me on the sidewalk?" She managed to choke out.

He smiled then, the one that quirked up on one side and set those damn butterflies off again. "Katniss, I've waited about 10 years to flirt with you and for you to realise it. I'm not really bothered _where_ it happens, so long as I get to."

She stared at him for a moment before speaking. “You’re good at this, aren’t you,” she murmured quietly. “Like you’ve been perfecting it for years.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets again. “I’ve learnt over the years that honesty is the best policy.”

She shook her head. “No, not 'honesty'. The smooth talking charmer. You knew what you were doing in high school, and it’s pretty obvious you’ve just gotten better at it as you’ve gotten older.”

Peeta smiled. “I guess that confirms it.”

“Confirms what?”

“That you _did_ notice me in high school.”

Katniss rolled her eyes, then gave up, and slid her arms into the sleeves of the jacket. Dammit, she _was_ cold. “Everyone noticed you in high school, Peeta.”

“It’s not everyone that I thought about. Only you.”

“That sounds like a line.”

“Do you want it to be a line?”

She couldn’t help the laugh that fell from her lips. “You’re kind of incorrigible, aren’t you?” She turned around, still laughing, and continued down the street towards home.

He fell into step beside her. “Not incorrigible. Just...not afraid to say what I think anymore. And I think about you, a lot. I always have.”

She didn’t know what to say at that. She kind of felt speechless, almost like how she’d been for most of the dinner.  But she had to _know_.

“Then why didn’t you say anything before now? If…if you’ve ‘ _liked’_ me since high school?” she asked, still incredulous at his revelation.

“Would you have listened to me if I had?”

“No.”

“Then there you go.”

“Then why tell me _now_?”

“The truth?”

“The truth.”

He shrugged, scuffed his foot along the ground, then stepped lightly over a crack in the footpath. “I hadn’t seen you for years, and figured it was just a school thing. You know, that I had rose-coloured glasses on, and memories that were better than they really were. And then I saw you at the engagement party, and BAM. Nothing had changed. You were still the most incredible looking woman in the room, the most intriguing and interesting woman there.” He stopped speaking as a car passed them, the headlights cutting through the dark, and waited until it had disappeared from sight before continuing. “I was going to say something at the rehearsal dinner, or at the wedding, but you were so focused on Prim, and making sure that everything was going great for her, that it just felt wrong to say anything. So I kind of...skirted around it.”

“You flirted with me,” she said matter of factly. “And I missed it.”

He shrugged, and she could see the corner of his mouth quirk up. “Yeah, I guess I did. I must have been more subtle than I thought.”

“I’m just pretty oblivious to things like that,” Katniss replied honestly. “What made you change your mind tonight?”

He scuffed his foot again. “I don't know. But at the dinner table, I just knew that I couldn’t _not_ tell you anymore. Figured, what the hell and all that ‘caution into the wind’ bullshit.”

Katniss frowned, brought the jacket around her a little closer. “You _do_ know we’re related now, right?”

He laughed, and it was long, smooth and drawn out, slid across her skin like warm honey. “I don’t think being in-laws counts as illegal in any states.”

“It doesn’t weird you out?”

“Not in the slightest. I don’t think of you as Prim’s sister, or Aaran’s sister-in-law, for a single second that I’m around you. What I think is much more involved. Much less...repeatable to other family members.”

Ignoring the rampant thudding of her heart, Katniss turned the next corner sharply, onto Victor Drive – where she’d lived for the last 3 years - and his elbow inadvertently brushed against her arm as he shifted around her. At the touch, she remembered the jolt that had shot through her palm and up into her shoulder as she’d shaken his hand just before leaving. At the way his blue eyes had deepened until they were all but black, at the way his fingers had tightened around hers slightly before releasing her from his grasp.

At the way she was fairly certain she’d never felt the kind of attraction she felt towards Peeta Mellark ever before in her life.

She stopped in front of her building, the warm red brick with ivy crawling up the corner, and turned to face him. She opened her mouth to thank him for the unnecessary assistance home, to send him back to Prim and Aaran’s so she could go inside and deal with how damned turned on she was, then stopped.

She could tell him goodnight, and that would be it. He’d fly back to Paris in two days and that would be the end of it; she'd likely see him at the occasional family function over the years, and she’d awkwardly remember the time he’d told her he was attracted to her, and she’d felt the same.

Or she could invite him in, for coffee, tea...whatever other excuse she wanted to use. Use that caution into the wind bullshit that he’d sprouted. Because right now, everything inside of her was buzzing. And not just buzzing from the fact that she hadn’t gotten laid in months.

But because the only person she wanted was standing right in front of her. And, whether she liked it or not, she’d wanted him for months. Hell, for well over a year. But because she wasn’t like Peeta Mellark, because she _was_ afraid to say what she thought, was afraid to even _think_ what she wanted to think half the time, she hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself.

Biding her time a little longer, she turned to the entrance, shoved her hand into her pocket for her keys.

_Where the hell were her keys? She’d-_

"Shit," she muttered, as realisation dawned.

"What is it?" Peeta asked.

"I left my keys at Prim's," she sighed, picturing them in the little pearlescent dish that sat on the side table in the foyer.

"You don't have a spare lying around?"

"That key _was_ my spare, that I hadn't replaced."

"Your Super?"

"Is a dickhead," she told him bluntly. With another sigh, this one exaggerated with annoyance, she reached up into her hair, pulled free a couple of pins that had kept wayward strands that always fell out of her braid secure. They tumbled around her face haphazardly as she dropped to her knees in front of the door, inserted the pins into the lock and began to jiggle it.

"Wait, you're breaking in?!"

Turning her head, Katniss glanced up at him to find him staring at her in surprise. "It's my own apartment block, Peeta. I don't think I'm going to get pinged for breaking and entering alright? Anyway, I've done it before."

She focused on the lock, twisting the pins left to right, a sharp jerk upwards, a rotation, all the while trying not to tuck her nose into the collar of Peeta's jacket and inhale the scent of aftershave and something...else that was uniquely him. Finally she felt the lock give, and with a quiet yelp of success, pushed the door open. Rising to her feet, she turned to him, extended her hand in a flourish. "Voilà," she said, expecting him to laugh, or smile - or hell, even clap her for opening it. Instead he just stood there, staring at her intently until she awkwardly dropped her arm. "What?" She demanded.

"Where'd you learn that?" He asked.

Katniss frowned. "Some of the kids at the community centre have some...interesting past life hobbies."

"Really?"

She shrugged. "I don't ask, don't tell. I'm not there to judge the ones who've got a past. But we got locked out of the storage facility once. Marvel - once you get past his douchey persona - is a good kid. Helped me out and I haven't been locked out since."

He shifted on his feet, then took a step towards her. "Can I tell you something?"

"I thought honesty was your best policy," she said smartly.

He nodded slowly, ran his tongue across his bottom lip. "That was really hot."

She scoffed. "Me, breaking into my apartment block?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Hell if I know, but let’s face it, I’ve been going crazy all night.” He swallowed – she could see the movement of his Adam’s apple as it bobbed, and the twitching of a muscle in his jaw. He ran a hand across the back of his neck, took a deep breath that made the cotton of his shirt stretch across his chest. “You feel it, don’t you, Katniss?”

She could have played stupid, could have played dumb. But she didn’t. “Yeah. Yeah I do,” she breathed out in a rush, and her heart doubled over at her admittance. Tension danced around them, thick and heavy in the air.

He nodded slowly. “Katniss, will you ask me upstairs?"

_Right. It was definitely option two then._

"Peeta, come-" She didn't even get to finish as he lunged forward, reaching his hands up to cup her cheeks, his mouth landing on hers with an intensity she hadn't expected. He guided her backwards with measured steps until they were inside the foyer, then reached out with a hand to slap the door closed. It echoed with a sharp thud, but for once she didn't give a shit if grumpy old Mrs Coin in the ground floor apartment came and reamed her out for being noisy.

Because Peeta Mellark was kissing the hell out of her.

And she liked it.

They stumbled upstairs, grappling at clothes, hands sliding under fabric hems to glide against skin. Their kisses were bruising, needy, and they rammed into the bannister, into the wall, into the doorframe to her apartment along the way. Peeta nipped at her earlobe, his breath hot against her neck. “Fucking keys. How are we getting in?” He muttered.

“Spare. In the pot plant in the corner,” she groaned as he bit down a little harder, jerked her thumb over her shoulder to the decorative faux plant that sat at the opposite end of the hall. He drew away, practically sprinted towards it, bending down and plucking the key from in the soil.

_Oh, damn. He absolutely had one hell of an ass._

She snatched the key from his outstretched hand as he reached her, shoved it into the lock as Peeta attached his lips to the back of her neck. Her hips jerked back almost involuntarily against him, causing a simultaneous groan to fall from both of their mouths.

“You’re uh, really good at that,” Katniss murmured as she fought with the lock, and he hummed against her skin in reply as she pushed the door open when the key finally turned.

They barely had the door closed behind them before Peeta had wrapped his arms around her again, one hand fisted in her braid, the other splayed around her waist. She wasn’t sure she could breathe, didn’t care if she couldn’t, only knew that she wanted to get closer, feel his skin on hers, feel all of him on all of her. She boosted herself up on her toes, then used her arms banded around his shoulders as leverage to wrap her legs around his waist.

Then they were tangled up again, nips and pecks and a dragging of teeth over skin as they stumbled their way across the small lounge until Peeta’s legs hit the back of the sofa, and he leant back against it. Inhaling sharply, Katniss opened her eyes and stared at him; he was all flushed face, disordered blond hair, cloudy blue eyes.

“Are we doing this?” she muttered, absently biting down on her lip as she unwrapped her legs from around him, lowering herself back to the ground. “Because...I really want to do this.”

“We’re doing this,” Peeta confirmed, “You have _no_ idea how much we’re doing this.”

"We can't let it ruin family stuff," she demanded as she rolled her hips against him.

"Not at all," he agreed, then crushed his mouth to hers again, his hand drifting down her back, moulding over the curve of her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh even through the layer of jeans.

She slid her arms from around his neck, down his chest, to the buttons that held his shirt together. Even while their mouths warred, her fingers yanked at the buttons, one slipping through the eyelet properly, another popping free from force and hitting her in the forearm.

“I broke your shirt,” she mumbled against his mouth.

“Fuck the shirt,” he groaned back as her hand slipped inside to brush against the smooth, pale gold skin of his chest.

“Yeah,” she agreed. "Fuck the shirt." Then she yanked at either side so the rest of the buttons popped and the fabric hung limply off his shoulders.

All bets were off after that.

Her top got dragged over her head, and he palmed her lace covered breasts in his hands, slipping his fingers underneath the fabric and teasing her until she all but whimpered. Then he snapped it open expertly, dropped it on the ground with their discarded shirts, and lowered his mouth to one of the dusky peaks, this time eliciting a moan that she barely even believed came from her own mouth.

Zippers were yanked, jeans flung across the couch, her hair tie was unwound and tossed on the carpet, the ebony waves tumbling down her back, the long silky strands winding through his fingers.

"You're so beautiful," Peeta murmured between kisses, as his hand trailed down her stomach, teased the edge of the plain black underwear she'd thrown on that day with no intention that they'd be seen by anyone other than her. She inhaled sharply as his fingers inched along the cotton, bit down on her lip hard enough that she swore she drew blood as they brushed, first as light as a feather, then with more pressure in small, lazy circles against her centre.

She wasn't going to last, and from the way he was straining against his boxer briefs, she was about 1000% certain he wasn't either.

Katniss stepped back so that his hands fell limply to his sides, both of them uttering a soft whine at the loss of contact. Then she turned her back, stalked down the hall to her bedroom, not even waiting for him to follow. She was certain he would.

He did.

They tumbled onto her bed, hands tearing at the final few scraps of clothing they wore until they were kneeling in front of each other on the mattress, panting and naked and needy, sheets tangled around their legs.

Peeta leant forward, meeting her mouth in another bruising kiss as he wrapped an arm around her waist, dragged her to him until they were aligned, flesh against flesh, from shoulder to knee.

And dammit, it felt glorious. Everything about him felt just like she'd imagined, only more.

Sweat slicked skin slid against sweat slicked skin as he lowered her onto her back, fingertips danced down stomachs and hips, up along the inside of thighs. Mouths ensnared, hot open mouthed kisses trailed across chests, tongues slicked across collarbones or the shell of an ear.

They rolled again, and this time she rose over him, straddling his thighs and taking him in her hand. She watched as his eyes rolled back in his head, as he thrusted instinctively with each movement of her palm around him. They fell into a rhythm, one that got them closer and closer to where they both wanted to be.

"I can't- Katniss- I, ah, fuck, I need you," he managed to choke out, his hands ghosting up her thighs, clenching them tightly before sliding up her sides and cupping her breasts. She nodded, reached over to the bedside table, and rifled through the drawer until she found the silver foil packet she kept there for _just in case_. He watched her intently as she tore it open, then rolled the condom down his length almost painfully slowly. They locked eyes as she lowered herself down until he was completely sheathed inside her.

"You feel so good," Peeta murmured, locking his hands with hers as she began to move. She murmured her reply, flexed her fingers in his before drawing their hands up onto his chest, and closing her eyes. The pressure built, stronger and headier and sharper, breaths panting, hearts racing, a shimmer of silver flashing behind her eyes until they both finally tumbled over the edge with a simultaneous moan.

As she caught her breath, as her body drifted down to fall limply atop his, she realised it wasn't his eyes, or his jaw, or his smile - it wasn't even his ass. It was _everything_ about him that appealed to her.

Katniss didn't think she'd ever been more thankful for dinner plans in her life.

********

"Will we see each other again?" He asked later, fingers dusting along the back of her hand.

"You're moving to Paris, not the moon," Katniss told him wryly, brushing a sweaty strand of hair back from her forehead.

"I know that. But..."

"Prim and Aaran are married - of course we will," she replied softly, before he could finish.

"You know that's not what I mean."

She curled over him, rested her head on his chest. "I'd...I'd like to think so."

He blew out a breath, of what sounded to her like relief. "So do I," Peeta said, stroked a hand down her back. "See? It's not so weird, is it? Us?"

"No," she admitted, then closed her eyes and fell asleep before she heard him say anything more.

********

_2 months, 3 weeks, 5 days later_

Peeta slid the key in the lock to his pied-à-terre, repeating a string of words like a mantra under his breath. His French was improving, no doubt, but sometimes he still felt like an ass when he ordered an espresso at a sidewalk café. For what it was worth, it wasn't his favourite, but meetings with other artists, exhibitionists and art agents invariably always ended up in a place where the espressos were endless and cigarette smoke bloomed. And while he'd stuck firm with the no smoking policy he'd set himself years ago, he'd had to give in to the coffee.

_For the love of my art_ , he always thought, and he'd sip at it and pretend it was tea.

Closing the door behind him with a gentle thud, he bent over to pick up the mail Crèssida in 13A would have slid under his door for him, then shot upright as he realised he heard the shower running.

_What the hell?_

He'd heard of burglaries like this, where the person made themselves feel at home before they robbed you blind. Hell, it had happened to Flavius, the flamboyant owner of a small gallery tucked up near Sacré-Cœur, and it had been a hot topic in the art community for weeks. 

With a heart beating like a drum, he clenched his keys in his fist, the length of them poking out between his knuckles, and crept down the minute hallway to the doorway that led to the bathroom that was barely big enough to for two people to fit inside at the same time. Steam billowed out from under the crack of the door, and with a quick twist, he flung it open.

He dropped the keys.

"Katniss Everdeen," he murmured as she turned to face him from under the sluicing water. She smiled at him, slowly and innocently.

"Peeta Mellark," she replied.

"Still picking locks, I see." He leant against the doorframe, his eyes travelling the length of a body he'd managed to hold close for one night before he'd moved across the world.

"Those kids are masterminds," she said simply.

"They are indeed," he agreed, tried to silently tell his deprived body to calm itself down. He'd thought of her every day since he'd seen her last - imagined walking along the Seine with her, showing her his favourite pieces in the Louvre, sneaking through the gardens at Museé Rodin and mimicking The Thinker. Imagined her naked in every room of the small apartment. Emails and skype and phone calls hadn't done either of them justice.

But now here she was. Finally.

She slid the door open, tapped her fingers lightly on the glass.

"Why don’t you come on in?" she invited.

He didn't need a second invitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. You can find me on tumblr, where I blog about THG, Everlark and whatever else takes my fancy, under sponsormusings as well :)


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